Pain Au Chocolat

Hope is not a prerequisite for writing. In fact, it's probably detrimental. Who needs to write when you have hope?

If you have hope, you don't need to do anything. You just need to wait.

Hope makes people complacent. That's why the world is only ever changed by people who know, in their heart of hearts, that nothing they do will ever make any difference.

There. That's the blog post started. It'll all be easy now.

I have an itch I can't scratch. It's on my leg, but not my actual leg. The leg is a metaphor for something. It's not in plaster, but it's definitely broken. I can't scratch it because I've bitten my fingernails down to smooth banister-ball spheres.

The leg and the nails are metaphors, but I'm not sure what for. The itch is a metaphor too, but all itches are metaphors. Itches aren't things. Not real things. They're just constructs of the mind that help us deal with emotional trauma and political corruption.

No-one has ever photographed an itch. Except maybe for scientists, who have special cameras that show cells and nerves all small. But until I see an itch with my own two(?) eyes, I'm going to continue to scepticise the whole operation.

I've just bought an iPod.

That's something proper to talk about. People like hearing about other people's gadgets and so on.

My old iPod is broken. I've had it since 2006. It has seen me through a lot of tough coach journeys. But the earholephone jackhole stopped working ages ago.

I could have got it fixed, but it was on its last legs anyway. It seemed like the right time for it to shuffle function off this mortal coil.

This is the only This Mortal Coil song I have on my iPod.



I'm going to play this to accompany my iPod's funeral. It will be Viking-style. I'll place it on a wooden boat, with its headphones clutched to its clickwheel chest, and will push it out into the North Sea. A better place awaits. Valhalla needs electronics. Many Norse heroes are still using Walkmans.

Seven years is (for all I know) a long time to have spent with a piece of electronic equipment. We have been intimate. It has been inside me, and I have been inside it (with a white cable). I have played that brick-breaking game that's on it. I've changed the menu settings.

When I first heard listened to its music, I was only twenty-three. I was beardless. I have grown. The Pod has grown with me.

At first, its 30GB capacity seemed to be infinite. Just like mine.

But now it creaks under the weight of its own contents. I've had to expunge it of almost every podcast, just to cram a few new albums into the hull.

Same with me, but instead of podcasts, it was... teeth or something.

At a certain point, we outgrew each other and ourselves.

It will take some time to forge a new relationship with my newPod. When it is delivered, I will have to face the brunt of novelty. Sure, it has four times the capacity for music, but does it have the same capacity for LOVE?

It should have a greater capacity for love. The technical specifications made it quite clear that it does. If the love capacity isn't as advertised, I'm going to ask for my money back.

***

At my desk, with my eyes closed and my fingers clasped pincerlike over the bridge of my nose.

"Are you OK?" they ask. "Are you dying?"

"I'm not dying."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm not dying. I'm thinking."

"Are you thinking about dying?"

*long pause* "Yes."

***

I'm not going to delete any of this because I'm defiant.

You don't need to have a backbone to be defiant. Some worms are defiant, as well as some "mist birds".

***

It's a few days later.  I'm indicating this by using a different font and colour. I was waiting until I had something upbeat to finish the entry with, but nothing sprang to mind. It's Saturday morning now - the best time of the week - so I feel a bit more equipped to lighten the mood.

I just had a pain au chocolat.

I haven't even re-read what I wrote yet. Let's do that now. (You don't have to read it again. That would be a terrible burden.)

...

Oh. That wasn't great until I got to "mist birds".

My new iPod still hasn't arrived, so it hasn't been that long.

Another reason that I didn't publish the post was that I couldn't think of a photo to accompany it. I usually start off my posts with an image tangentially related to the subject-matter. But it can't give away any of my hilarious remarks.

If the image was of some "mist birds", for example, it would ruin the surprise when I eventually mentioned "mist birds".

I'm going to finish this now. If I feel like writing, I can always start another one. But, if I do, it will be in my original font.

I still need to sort out the photo.

How about... something to do with Zorro?

There. I've ruined the surprise, but at least... Zorro.